Not perhaps as I would have done it.

I know, memory plays tricks and the tales of an old man may no longer be recognisably connected with the deeds of his youth. Yet surely I am not yet that old!


A book has been published, a story told. All in a volume slim enough to be a book of poetry, but what hint of the higher arts did I find?
Yes the reader will be able to gain some insight into the mind of the artist and see them at work so it is no bad thing. But frankly there is too much climbing in and out of bedroom windows for my taste. In fact looking back I feel that perhaps young Benor has some sort of deep seated issue with windows, when he’s not climbing through them he’s throwing people out of them. Perhaps that is why Shena insisted he sleep outside on the deck?

But still, if you read the book then you’ll undoubtedly learn something about the trials and pitfalls that go to make up the life of a poet.

To be honest, I’d rather hoped the incident with the horse had been forgotten, and as for how we got into the Council Building! Looking back I’m not sure what worries me most, the fact that nobody recognised me, me, Tallis Steelyard, the leading poet of the generation; or that somebody might now remember the incident.

And may the gods spare me from women with edged weapons. Yet in mature reflection and looking on the bright side; it was probably worth it all just to see Mutt in pink satin jacket and breeches.


So yes, interesting read, but surely he could have put some poetry in it?

Oh sorry, I forgot, the name of the book. It’s ‘A Much Arranged Marriage.’ And it is available from



much arranged marriage

20 thoughts on “Not perhaps as I would have done it.

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